


These Lights Are Blinding Us

by LeeBarnes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, But Louis is too so it's okay, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Harry's a sap, Louis is also a bit of an idiot, M/M, Power Bottom Louis, Riding, Smut, Song writing, Top Harry, Valentine's Day, blowjob, bottom Harry is implied, but he's cute so we forgive him, coz they kind of share that, only bottom Louis is detailed, the fake relationship is Eleanor/Louis by the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3312668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeBarnes/pseuds/LeeBarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve got a date with Eleanor tonight.” Louis admits quietly, feels his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach when Harry’s grin turns into a scowl. “It was part of the bargain, remember? We could spend your birthday together in exchange of a public date with her. I didn’t realise what date it would fall on, I swear. I wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.” </p><p>“It’s okay.” He says, the disappointment in his voice contradicting the statement. “It’s just another day of the year, right? A made-up holiday to benefit florists and stuff.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Lights Are Blinding Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EponineTheStrange (gallifreyandglowclouds)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyandglowclouds/gifts).



> Hi, 
> 
> I just have a few things to say super quickly before you start to read These Lights Are Blinding Us, won't be long. You don't even have to read it if you don't want to. Anyway.
> 
> So first of all, I want to thank EponineTheStrange for three very inspiring prompts. It was hard to choose only one but it had to be done. I hope you'll like how I interpreted and wrote it. I did my best to not stray too far from the requested fluff. 
> 
> Second thing I have to say is that the song Louis writes in this fic is actually Dreamer To A Dream by Brightwood. I did change a few things to make it sound unfinished/fit Louis&Harry relationship but I used their lyrics. I doubt Brightwood will ever stumble upon this story but if they do, I am sorry for using your song, it is just so beautiful. Also, look, I'm giving you credits for it!
> 
> I think that's all. There is no warning other than this story is set in London & not in whatever Australian town they'll be at for Valentine's Day. Ah yes, sex scene at the end. Pretty sure it's the first time I go so into details so sorry if it sucks. I don't think there's any trigger as it's mostly fluff but if you come across one, let me know and I'll add it to the tags. 
> 
> ENJOY!!!

Louis isn’t a morning person, never was and never will be. He tends to get grumpy when he’s tired, pouts an excessive amount too. And it’s quite the inconvenience in his line of work, where he has to be up at the crack of dawn more often than never. He’s got flights to catch, interviews to give, performances to rehearse for. He’s seen many sunrises over the last four and a half years. And he’s had to apologise for snapping at innocent members of the crew just as many times. He’s not too proud of how big of a dick he becomes when he’s tired, wishes he could change that part of his character. He’s trying, though, has been trying long before he joined One Direction. He hasn’t been very successful so far.

But there is one thing that helps him remain in good spirits when he has to be out of bed before the sun itself. It always works, without fail. And he really, really doesn’t mind waking up early for it. And if the way Harry’s peppering kisses on his shoulder is any indication, he’s definitely going to get it today.  

“‘Go ‘way, ‘m trying to sleep!” He mumbles, sleepy smile pressed into the pillow. He swats a hand behind him, tries to dislodge his boyfriend. It’s all pretend, of course, the last thing he wants is for Harry to stop now. Actually, he’d like him to move onto the next level now. “S’too early.”

Harry chuckles against the skin of Louis’ shoulder and moves his lips up his neck to the spot behind his ear. He kisses the skin there, lightly bites his earlobe and sucks it between his lips. Louis’ dick twitches, as it always does when Harry’s lips attack his weak spots. He can feel his boyfriend smile against his skin. Fucking smug bastard, he is.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.” Harry murmurs into his ear, fingers tracing along Louis’ spine lightly and stopping on the dimples at the bottom of it. Louis likes where this is going, wants it to get there faster. Except his brain has finally processed Harry’s words, made sense of them and everything.

“Shit! Fuck! Bollocks!” He swears, flipping onto his back so suddenly that Harry’s sent on the other side of their bed. Harry is looking at him with a frown, clearly aware of the anguish and dread that just settled in his system. “I can’t believe I fucking forgot Valentine’s Day! Shit!”

“Damn, Lou, I was really looking forward to that dick-shaped box of savoury chocolates you get me every year.” Harry laughs, moving closer again to kiss him. Louis grimaces into the kiss. He loves Harry to pieces, loves kissing him more than anything. Except, maybe, sex. Sex is awesome. But morning breath is still gross, even after years of waking up together. “You’ll just have to proper wine and dine me tonight, no big deal.”

“I’ve got a date with Eleanor tonight.” Louis admits quietly, feels his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach when Harry’s grin turns into a scowl. “It was part of the bargain, remember? We could spend your birthday together in exchange of a public date with her. I didn’t realise what date it would fall on, I swear. I wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.”

Harry smiles weakly, makes a valiant effort of it, but Louis still recognises it for what it is, the fake smile he uses with fans and journalists sometimes. And it hurts to see it directed at him, so much.

“It’s okay.” He says, the disappointment in his voice contradicting the statement. “It’s just another day of the year, right? A made-up holiday to benefit florists and stuff.”

“I’ll cancel. I’ll call the big bosses and tell them I’m not feeling too fresh today.” Louis decides, pushing the duvet off his body and sitting on the edge of the mattress to grab his phone on the nightstand. “It won’t change much if we go out next week, the minions are going to eat it up anyway.”

“There will be consequences if you cancel, you know that as well as I do.” Harry sighs, kneeling behind Louis to take the phone off his hands and put it back on the bedside table. “Things have been good lately, yeah? Like, they’re not trying to separate us as much and we get to be seen together. If we have to make some compromises to keep it that way, I’d rather you spend Valentine’s Day with Eleanor than you take her on a trip to whatever tropical island they made a deal with this time. Best of two devils and all that, you know?”

Harry’s right; things have been going better since the Azoff agreed to unofficially take them under their wings and helped them find loopholes in their contracts. Louis doesn’t have to spend as much time with Eleanor anymore nor does he need to pretend he’s in love with her. And Harry doesn’t have to play along with his womanizer image anymore, which is such a big relief for the both of them. All they have to do nowadays is to be seen in the same place as their fake girlfriends and watch their fans do the rest. It’s slightly ridiculous how well that works, honestly, but it makes their life so much easier.

“We shouldn’t have to sacrifice anything for those things.” Louis mutters, leaning further into Harry’s embrace. He can’t wait for their contracts to be terminated, to finally be able to come out and tell the world who he’s really in love with. It’s a scary thought, that, especially after all the things that have been done in his name to protect his closet, but he’s ready to tell the truth about who he is and whom he loves. And he wants to do it yesterday, preferably.

“It is what it is.” Harry smiles against his cheek, a calloused fingertip tracing the words inked across his chest. “And it’s almost over now, yeah? Only a couple of months and we’ll be making out for the cameras.”

“Deserve a proper show, don’t they?” Louis chuckles, slipping his fingers through the gaps in between Harry’s. Almost five years since they met in that bathroom and he’s still amazed by how well everything about them fit. “With how patient they’ve been and all that.”

There are many photographed evidences of their relationship out there; some of which are in the hands of greedy paparazzi and less-than-respectable agencies. But they’ve never been published anywhere or leaked on the Internet. And he knows their team are paying to keep their relationship from making the front page of tabloids all around the world. He also knows the pictures are worth more than what they’re being given for their silence.

“Fans, too.” Harry adds, grinning wide enough for the dimple to reappear. “They deserve to witness some proper PDA from us after all we’ve put them through.”

All Louis had to put them through; is what he should be saying. Louis is the one whose twitter was used to drag the fans supporting their relationship through the mud, to encourage their other fans to bully them. He wasn’t the one saying all these things, refused to say them in all the ways he could think of, but he’ll never forgive himself regardless. And he’ll never be able to make it up to them. 

“I think we should practice, like a lot.” Harry muses, disentangling their bodies to get off the bed. He smirks, just this side of devilishly. “Don’t want to disappoint our fans, do we?” 

><><><><><><><><>< 

Harry all but collapses on top of Louis, crushing him with his weight. Louis can’t find it in himself to mind, wraps his boyfriend into a tight embrace instead and runs his hand up and down his back. Harry sighs contently, buries his face into Louis’ sweat-damp neck. He’s the cuddliest man alive after an orgasm. Louis can’t find it in himself to mind that either. He lets his fingers wander further down his body. Harry gasps into his neck when a fingertip catches on his rim. Louis smirks, pushes the finger inside up to the first knuckle, the slide made easy by the come leaking out of Harry.    

“Too sore for another round, Lou.” Harry whimpers, wriggling out of his lover’s arms. Louis lets him go easily, isn’t one to force anything on his boyfriend. He’s not sure he could even get it up again, to be honest. He’s getting old; three orgasms in a row might be his new average. Harry lies on his side, cups Louis’ jaw with one big paw and pecks his lips. “I’ll jump in the shower real quick, and then I’ll make breakfast.”

“Maybe I could join you in the shower.” Louis suggests, poking at Harry’s dimple with a smirk of his own. “I mean, I’m not too sore for anything so.”

“Oh my God, you’re insatiable!” Harry laughs, making a show of hurrying out of bed and to the adjoined bathroom. Louis’ dick gives a feeble twitch at the sight of his boyfriend’s naked arse bouncing with each step he takes. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of that man. “And you’re banned from the bathroom until I’m done.”

“You’re no fun, Harold!” Louis calls after him, realises Harry’s being serious when he hears him lock the bathroom’s door. Now that’s a sound he doesn’t hear often. Harry only locks doors when he’s mad at him. But they just had mind-blowing sex. He’s just made him come, like multiple times. Surely he can’t be mad at him.

><><><><><><><><>< 

Louis gets started on breakfast, reckons he’d better make himself useful instead of just lying in bed and wondering if he’s going to have to deal with a passive-aggressive boyfriend. He could have changed the sheets, it has to be done after last night and this morning, but he’d rather fix breakfast. He’s not very good with duvets, always has to fight with it forever. And he’s not as bad a cook as their fans seem to think he is, honestly. He can make a stir-fry without burning the house down, at least. And maybe it will win him a few good points with Harry. He feels like he needs them. He should have talked about the date with him; should have checked he was okay with it. And he’d have had to go through with it anyway, of course, but he could have negotiated the day at least. He can't believe he's been stupid enough to accept a fake date on Valentine's Day. He knows what February 14th is, knows what it means to Harry. He's an idiot, is what he is. Also, he's pretty sure he'd just been fucked pretty good when they called so his brain wasn't completely functional. Maybe Harry should take some of the blame too. There, one point for him in case of a fight. He hopes there won't be a fight. 

“Something smells very good in here.” Harry says as he joins Louis in the kitchen, only wearing a pair of tight black pants. His skin’s still glistening with droplets of water from his shower, more dripping from his long locks. He’s so unfairly cruel. Louis startles when Harry drapes an arm around his waist and hooks his chin on his shoulder. “Chicken leftovers?”

“T’was about to go bad.” He hums, resisting the urge to lean further into his boyfriend’s embrace to drop the chicken in the vegetables instead. Harry pecks his cheek, lips curling upwards against the skin, and goes to set the table. So domestic, they are. Louis loves it. “Your phone pinged, by the way.”

“Yeah, Cara wanted to know if we were going to Nick’s Anti-Valentine party. Told her I might since you’re standing me up to spend the evening with your lover on the side.”

Right, okay. Louis didn’t expect Harry to stay at home and wait for him all night anyway; that’s just not who he is. And it makes sense for Harry to want to be at the party for a bit. He hasn’t seen his friends from the Hipsters Clique since they came back from Hawaii, might as well see them all at once. Also, their PR team is going to be very happy with all the pictures of Harry that will inevitably surface and confirm that they’re not together on the night of Valentine’s Day. It rubs Louis the wrong way, that habit Harry’s friends have of namedropping him every chance they get, but they might be able to negotiate another sightings with that.

“I might swing by after dinner.” Louis smirks, transferring the dishes in a plate to bring it on the table. “I’ll pick you up in my fancy car like the perfect boyfriend that I am, make all of your friends jealous.”

“I’d love that, yeah. But it’s an official party at the Box. Paparazzi will be posted at every corner, probably.” Harry grimaces and Louis deflates. Harry must notice because next thing Louis knows, his boyfriend is lacing his fingers on the small of his back and pulling him closer. “Your fancy car has tinted windows, doesn’t it? So they wouldn’t be able to see who’s behind the wheel, not clearly at least.”

“You, Harold, are a genius.” Louis grins, framing his boyfriend’s face with both hands to pull him down and smooch him properly. For all that he wants to linger and make it last, their food is getting colder by the minute. So he pulls away before either of them can deepen the kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Harry smiles, bright as the sun. “Now let’s try that chicken stir-fry of yours.”

><><><><><><><><>< 

Harry goes out in the afternoon, says he has a few errands to run in town and will be back in a couple of hours at most. He brushes a kiss on Louis’ forehead on his way out, lips curled into a happy grin. He didn’t ask if Louis wanted to go with him. It shouldn’t be a big deal. They’re not attached at the hip, after all. And Louis wants to work on that song that’s been running through his mind all morning anyway. But Harry always asks if he wants to tag along when he’s not out on fan-service or paparazzi duty. It’s really not that hard for them to fly under the radar when they want to. It's all a matter of where they go, really. They're more likely to be spotted if they go to places that are popular among the young generation, for example. Other than that, they can do pretty much anything. They took their mums out for dinner in London no later than last week and their fans never heard about it, no rumours or anything. And they've gone shopping before, more than once. They hardly ever got recognised, were never photographed.

And he knows Harry's not mad at him. First, he's past getting upset about Eleanor's role in their life. Second, he's shit at concealing his feelings. It's very easy to tell when he's angry, especially for Louis who knows all of his tells. And thirdly, he's really not that good of an actor. He's incapable of pretending everything's fine when he's mad. But he went out on his own and he's going to Nick's party tonight. So he may be a little mad, just not enough for it to be obvious. Louis did forget about Valentine's Day, after all. They may not do anything special for it but they still make a point of spending it together, just the two of them, no distractions from outside. Louis has taken that away from them today, albeit unintentionally. And he can’t fix it but he can still try to make the day somewhat special.

><><><><><><><><>< 

“You want to write a song in one hour.” Liam repeats slowly, arms crossed over his chest and brows furrowed in confusion. He stares at Louis like he thinks he’s lost his mind. Louis might have, to be honest. They have never written a song in such a short amount of time. They’ve never even written a first draft in such a short amount of time. He doesn’t know if it’s even possible. But he has to try, for Harry. “I don’t know, Lou. I just don’t think we’re that good.”

“I just need a decent enough draft to play for Harry tonight.” Louis sighs, slightly frustrated by his writing-partner’s lack of confidence in their skills. And by his lack of understanding, too. “It doesn’t have to be perfect or anything.”

“Just get him one of those expensive scarves he loves so much.”

Louis blinks a few times, wonders what Liam’s got Sophia for Valentine’s Day. He will feel sorry for her if it’s a piece of fabric. It’s just so impersonal, uncreative. And it definitely doesn’t scream ‘I love you’ no matter how much it costs.

“He has dozens of those already.” Louis dismisses the idea, waving his hand in the air to emphasis the point. “And he doesn’t even wear them anymore.”

“You wrote about a thousand songs, though.”

“If you don’t want to help me, Liam, just say so.” Louis groans, feeling exhausted all of the sudden. “I can do it on my own. I don’t need you.”

He’s a good songwriter on his own, doesn’t need anyone to hold his hand. He can definitely do it on his own. He doesn’t even know why he called Liam in the first place. Force of habit, probably. He won’t be caught doing that mistake again.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got so far.”

Louis grins in victory, mentally pictures his fist in the air and everything. He pulls Liam into a quick, very manly hug and leads him to the music room. They are on a tight schedule here, no time to waste.  

><><><><><><><><>< 

Louis and Liam are still working on the song when Harry gets home. And Louis might be about to experience his first panic attack since the X-Factor days. He’s not ready. The song’s not ready. It only has two verses and a bridge written, two or three more random lines with no right spot in the lyrics yet and absolutely no rough outlines of a chorus. And he’s only just found the right melody to go along with the little they have and is not completely sure he’ll be able to reproduce it. He was just messing about on the piano to distract his brain from the impending panic attack brewing into his veins, wasn’t paying much attention to the keys he was hitting. But it fitted the rhythm of the lyrics so perfectly. He needs to find it again, no way around it. But Harry’s home now and he’s going to hear him play piano. Also, he has to spend time with Harry before his date with Eleanor. It’s tradition. And they need it more than ever, probably.

“I’m the Scrooge of Valentine’s Day.” Louis whines, dropping his forehead on top of the piano’s keyboard. Harry will know where to find him now, at least. If he was even wondering, that is. “I ruined it for Harry. He’ll never forgive me.”

“Harry would forgive you if you killed his favourite pet, Louis.” Liam assures in his kindest tone of voice, which is very kind. Liam’s the kindest. When he’s not being the dumbest. “I don’t know why you’re putting so much pressure on yourself today, seriously. Harry knows you love him and he doesn’t need you to write him yet another…”

“He could hear you!” Louis interrupts, quickly covering Liam’s mouth with his hand to shush him. Liam looks unimpressed. “I might have failed at finishing the thing but I still want the thing to be a surprised, you know?”

He only removes his hand when Liam nods in understanding. He slumps in his seat and grabs his notebook. He’s feeling a little defeated right now.

“It’s the best we could do in the allotted time, Louis. And I really think we did good.” Liam says, patting Louis’ thigh in what he probably thinks is a comforting way. It’s awkward at best. “Harry’s going to love it, I promise.”

“I hope so, yeah.”

Louis closes the notebook when he hears Harry’s footsteps echoing through the corridor. He puts it in the top drawer, the one that locks. Harry doesn’t usually snoop, and he usually doesn’t care if he finds the songs he’s working on, but he’d rather be safe than sorry today.

“I’m home and I hope you’re ready cause it’s time for sweet, loving…” Harry trails off when he sees Liam’s in the room with Louis, eyes widening in surprise and cheeks reddening in embarrassment. Louis can’t help the grin that tugs at the corner of his lips. “Song-writing. It’s time for sweet, loving song-writing. Like, we are going to write songs about our love that are going to give the fans’ cavities.”

Harry looks mortified, face and neck red as tomatoes. Louis bites his tongue to contain the laugh that threatens to spill past his lips. Liam has walked in on them in compromising situations more than once, so did the other guys and many members of their teams. And yet, Harry still acts like a blushing virgin when he’s caught mentioning their sex life. It’s endearing, mostly.

“Sure, yeah, song-writing. If that’s what you kids call it these days.”

Louis barks out a laugh at that, faintly disguises it as a cough when Harry glares at him.

“Anyway, I better get going.” Liam announces, smirk still on his lips as he gets up. “I have to grill Soph to know where she’s taking me tonight, to dress accordingly and all that.”

Louis makes a swishing sound, accompanying it with an imaginary lasso throw. It doesn’t even make sense in context, really, but Liam’s just so whipped. It’s kind of cute, somehow.

“If you bought her a piece of clothing, please, bring it back to the shop and get her a necklace or a bracelet.” Louis advises Liam before getting up and pulling him into a tight hug. He ignores the way his friend tenses at the sudden gesture and the puzzle look on Harry’s face. He just needs to say something that his boyfriend can’t hear. “And thank you for coming.”

><><><><><><><><>< 

“Why do I even need to dress up? That date’s nothing but a joke anyway!” Louis complains, picking at a loose thread on his pillowcase as he watches Harry go through their closet in search of an appropriate outfit for his date with Eleanor. “You didn’t make a big deal out of my poor look when I went to her graduation looking like a hobo.”

“Yeah, well, that’s only because I was stuck in the US and couldn’t exactly get you to change from there.” Harry grumbles, throwing one of his expensive shirts on the mattress. Nope, no way Louis will wear that outside of this house. It’s just too ridiculous. He’d look ridiculous in it. “And there will be dozens of HQ pictures of that date all over the Internet before the end of the night; you can’t look like you just put on the first thing you found in your closet.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Harry emerges from the closet with a black button-up and skinny jeans in hands, holding them both up for Louis to see. The shirt appears to be Harry’s, definitely too big for Louis’ thinner frame. He will literally swim in it. But it’ll make a good contrast with the tight-fit jeans. He’ll look good in that outfit, he concedes.

“Okay, I’ll play dress-up but on one condition.” Louis says, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. He gets off the mattress to stand in front of Harry, taking the clothes from his hands and hanging them on the closet’s door carefully. Harry would kill him if he wrinkled them now. He turns back to his boyfriend, lacing his hands on the back of his head. “You help me get out of those clothes.”

Harry laughs, leans down to kiss Louis’ lips and instantly prods them open with the tip of his tongue. Louis doesn’t even pretend to object, gets on his tiptoes to be at his boyfriend’s level and kiss him back with a lot of enthusiasm. He can feel him smile, which makes him smile wider. He’ll never get tired of this, of Harry. 

“Deal.” Harry murmurs into the kiss, his big paws wandering down Louis’ back to squeeze his arse. Louis doesn’t need more incentive to lead him to their bed, not breaking their kiss for even half of a second. Breathing is overrated anyway.

><><><><><><><><>< 

Harry might have been turned into a vampire. It might have happened when he was in town earlier. The fastest transition, it was. But it would explain the trail of lovebites on Louis' body. Louis isn't complaining, far from it. He quite likes it when his boyfriend feels the urge to mark him up. But he sort of went a bit overboard today. It's almost painful at this point. The price Louis has to pay for going on a fake date with someone else on Valentine's Day, probably. He sighs when he sees the bruise forming on his Adam Apple. That makes two visible lovebites then, with the one on his jawline. There is absolutely no way people won't notice. They'll be very much evident on pictures, too. And Eleanor's minions will give her credit for them, which annoys him to no end. He wants the world to know Harry's the one to suck lovebites onto his skin. He wants the world to know he belongs with Harry and not Eleanor. It's only a matter of months now. The world will know before the end of the year. The thought alone gives him the strength to carry on with tonight's charade, somehow.

"You should keep a couple of buttons open." Harry suggests, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Let your marvelous collarbones shine and all that." 

"You just want people to see more of your handiwork." Louis teases with a roll of his eyes but unbuttons the top button anyway. He's not following Harry's advice, just suddenly feels suffocated by the shirt's collar. He's not that whipped, really. He might well be.

"Mouthiwork, more like." Harry smirks, walking closer to trace the purplish bruise on Louis' collarbone. Smug bastard, he is. Also, an idiot. But he's Louis' idiotic smug bastard so it's sort of okay. "So many ovaries are going to explode when tonight's pictures will be online." 

Louis guffaws, quickly brings a hand to his mouth to cover the sound. Harry takes his hand away with a grin and slides his fingers through the gaps between Louis', then doing the same with their other hands. He leans down to kiss him, keeping it quick and chaste.

"I should probably get going." Louis sighs, feeling a bit defeated. He really doesn't want to leave Harry. "Eleanor threatened to cut your dick off if I picked her up late." 

"Why is it my dick being threatened?"

"I value it more than mine."

Harry lets go of Louis' hands to put his arms around his neck and pull him into a tight embrace, muffling the sound of his laughter with the top of his head.

><><><><><><><><>< 

 Louis gets to the Calder’s seven minutes after the agreed time, which is actually quite early for him. Eleanor is already waiting for him outside, sitting on the doorsteps with her phone in hands. She looks up from the screen just as he turns the engine off, smiles at him and pockets her phone. She doesn’t look annoyed with him for once. It’s a nice change from the last few times he’s seen her. And it might help make their date a little less of a nightmare. He climbs out of the car to open the passenger door for her. Let it be known that Louis Tomlinson is nothing if not a gentleman. He even makes sure her dress doesn’t get stuck in the door before closing it. He’s just so mindful. A perfect fake boyfriend, he is. He slips back behind the wheel quickly. His fingertips are already turning into ice cubes. He can’t wait to fly to Australia, laze around on the warm sand and ogle Harry in those sinful yellow shorts. Heaven. He buckles his seatbelt and waits for Eleanor to do the same to start the engine again. Harry would be proud, probably. He’s always ranting about safety first and stuff.  

Louis spares a glance at Eleanor once he’s done backing out of the driveway, sees that she’s already back to typing on her phone. He should be more annoyed by the amount of time she spends texting when they’re together. But he really can’t find it in himself to care. He doesn’t have the right to be upset, really. They are nothing more than colleagues, just two people being paid to spend time together. They might get along just fine now but they’re not friends. They never were and will probably never be. They won’t even see each other again once this charade over. He’s not going to complain about her lack of interest in him when he doesn’t have much interest in her.  

The drive to the restaurant is long and quiet, heavy silence only broken by the occasional chirping from Eleanor’s phone. He’s a little relieved when they finally reach the restaurant, in spite of the half dozen paparazzi lined up in front of the restaurant’s door. Okay, it does dampen his mood a little but he has a job to do, a show to give. He can’t show weakness. His detractors would be way too happy. 

><><><><><><><><>< 

There are black spots dancing in front of Louis’ eyes and a ringing echoing in his ears. He’s a little more than annoyed at tonight’s cluster of paparazzi. They were so unnecessarily rude, yelling a lot of inappropriate things to get their attention. He even saw one of them pushing an innocent passerby who happened to be in one of his shots. It’s no wonder the profession has such a bad reputation, really. So he probably looks pissed at the world on all the photographs of them leaving the restaurant, barely holding hands as they pretend to shield their faces from invasive lenses. He’s just not that good of an actor when his heart’s not in it. And he’s going to be lectured about it again as soon as the pictures will have reached the team. He’ll have to remember to turn his and Harry’s phones off when they get home. And unplug their home phone, too. They stole Valentine’s Day from them; they can talk to their voicemails for a day.   

“Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?” Louis offers once they’ve reached the underground parking where he’s parked. He ruined her Valentine’s Day; the least he can do for her is take a detour. “Your boyfriend lives just a couple blocks from here, right?”  

“It’s okay, I’ll just take a cab there.” Eleanor declines, getting her phone out of her bag and putting it in Louis’ hand. There’s a picture of Harry arriving at The Box earlier, looking smoking hot in an outfit oddly similar to his. The bastard must have planned it so they’d match. Louis might be drooling a little bit. He’s so lucky to have such a good-looking boyfriend; not that he would love him any less if he were an ugly duckling though. “Just go pick your boyfriend up before he gets to drunk to sex you up.”  

“Harry never has any trouble getting it up, believe me.” 

Eleanor laughs, already walking away from him.  

“Goodnight, Louis.”  

><><><><><><><><>< 

Harry trips over his own feet on his way to the car, the moment immortalised by two dozens cameras, and he laughs loudly enough for Louis to hear it from inside the car. Harry’s ridiculously endearing, very hard to not love. And he’s always so lovely to everyone, even giant arseholes asking him how many girls he banged tonight. Louis rolls down the window on the passenger’s side, all ready to defend his boyfriend’s honour. He can’t exactly talk to these guys, though, not to tell them Harry wouldn’t have sex with a woman if it were the only way to save his life. Maybe he would do it if it were to save her. He’s just that nice and selfless. Anyway.    

“It’s Valentine’s Day, people!” Harry exclaims, hand already on the door handle. Louis wants to get him inside the car and drive him away from these vultures. “Just go home and have sex with your partner!”  

Louis barks out a laugh, the sound probably loud enough to be caught by the cameras around the car.

“Is it what you’re going to do?” A man in his late thirties asks, smirk on his face as he tries to get his camera closer to the car’s window. Louis leans his forehead against the wheel, just in case. “Tell us who the lucky lady is, Harry!” 

Harry cackles, finally opens the car door and slips inside, quickly closing the door behind him. Louis leans over the gear stick to get a kiss. Harry indulges him with a smile. Tainted windows are such an amazing invention.

“Let’s go home, please.” Harry smirks. “I have an advice to follow.”

Louis has never hit the pedal faster. 

><><><><><><><><>< 

Louis has barely turned the engine off and Harry's already leaping out of the car and scurrying inside. Louis doesn't even blink. He stopped trying to understand Harry's odd behaviour a long time ago. His boyfriend is a charming weirdo and he wouldn't want him to change for all the normalcy in the world. He takes his time to lock the garage door and follow Harry inside, bracing himself for what's to come. He's written so many songs for Harry the last couple of years but this one's different somehow. It's special, means more. And so he's nervous, more than he's ever been before. He's a professional, get on stage to play and sing to thousands of people every other night, but he's breaking a sweat at the prospect of playing just for his boyfriend tonight. He's ridiculous, honestly. Everything's going to be fine. Everything's always go just fine with them. They love each other; want to spend the rest of their life together. And nothing will ever change that. 

Harry didn't even take the time to turn the lights on in his rush to get upstairs. Louis idly wonders how much he had to drink at the party. It'd put a real damper to their evening if he were sick. But he'd have one more night to work on the song, perfect the melody. He could do with a little more time to work on the melody. But he'd like a romantic night in with his boyfriend more than a few extra hours to write him a song. He shrugs out of his coat, hangs his keys on the rack and goes to flip the light switch on. But there's a post-it stuck on it. He takes it with a light frown, wondering what his boyfriend has in store for him tonight.

* _Follow the pink petal road*_

It says in Harry’s messy handwriting, a stickman walking on a path of flowers drawn next to it. Louis chuckles as he pockets the piece of paper. Trust Harry to intentionally misquote a classic to make a joke. He sees the aforementioned pink petals on the floor, placed to form two lines in between which Louis can walk. He wishes he could take a picture of this set-up and post it on the Internet; show Harry’s romantic side to the world. Maybe it would put an end to his reputation as a womanizer. The trail leads him to the staircase where Harry has installed a dozen tiny teddy bear on the steps, all dressed-up with tiny versions of their own outfits. Louis does take a picture of the teddies on their staircase. It’s just too cute. There’s a second post-it stuck on the handrail. Louis can probably guess what’s written on it but he picks it up anyway.

* _Follow the brown bears now*_

There’s another drawing next to the instruction, what must be a bear jumping into a black hole but just looks like two black blobs on top of each other. He will definitely have to post this one on Twitter one day, with a funny comment about Harry’s lack of artistic skills. He looks closely at all the bears, noticing details on their outfits that even he had forgotten about until now. It can’t be a last minute set-up; there’s just no way. Harry must have spent hours preparing all of this. The last bear is holding a third post-it. Louis can’t see anything on the floor, no trail leading to their bedroom. He picks up the paper with a frown. 

* _Gold is at the end of the rainbow*_

The aforementioned rainbow is made of extra thin plastic tubes attached to the wall. Louis wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for Harry’s bad drawing of a wall full of mini rainbows. It leads him to their bedroom, unsurprisingly. He wonders if Harry’s waiting on the other side of the door wearing only his old gold thong. It would be one hell of a sight. He’d cherish it forever. He raises his fist to knock on the door, stops when he notices the fourth post-it.

* _Why would you knock? It’s your bedroom, dumbshit!*_

Louis chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. He decides to stop wasting time and swings the door open. Harry isn’t wearing his gold thong. He’s not wearing anything, actually. He’s standing at the end of their bed, in all of his naked glory but with a golden bow on his dick. Louis can’t move anymore, too flabbergasted to claim control over his body. He should probably get a picture of that too. He’ll come to regret it if he doesn’t have visual proof that this actually happened.

“You’re such a dork!” He laughs when he finally gets over the shock, grinning so wide he fears his face might split in two soon. And Harry’s own lips curl up, eyes squinting with happiness. He looks so ridiculously proud of himself, as well as just plain ridiculous. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too.” Harry says, cupping Louis’ jaw and bringing their lips together in a sweet kiss. It’s too short for Louis’ liking. Harry trails his hand down Louis’ back, resting them on his hips and squeezing. “Now get naked. I want to fuck you with the bow on.”   

“You have such a way with words, honey, I’m bedazzled.” Louis deadpans, trying to look unimpressed but failing quite miserably. He can’t wipe the smile off his face, no matter how hard he tries. He’s just so in love with the idiot in his arms.

Harry just smirks before he dips in for another kiss, poking his lips open with the tip of his tongue. Louis meets him halfway, arms wrapping around Harry’s waist to pull him closer. He slips a hand down to his arse and paws at it firmly. Harry breaks the kiss to drop his head on Louis’ shoulder, breathing heavily as his cock fills up and hardens against Louis’ belly.

“You, naked, now.” He pants, fingers already fumbling with the buttons of Louis’ shirt. He gets too impatient eventually and just rips it open, a couple of buttons fly across the room. Louis would hit him if it were his own shirt. He doesn’t have enough of those to afford ruining one in the throws of passion. But Harry does. He has so many shirts, one less won’t make a difference to him. So whatever. The shirt’s on the floor in seconds, Harry’s lips and tongue teasing Louis’ nipple while he works his jeans open. Louis pushes him on the mattress and wiggles out of his trousers, taking his underwear off with it. Harry leans on his forearms to lift his upper body off the mattress and look at him properly, eyes traveling from his eyes to his half-hard cock and up again.

Harry scrambles to the edge of the bed and reaches for Louis’ hips to make him stand between his parted legs. Louis knows what Harry’s about to do before he does it, feels his dick twitch in anticipation. Harry gets a hand on Louis’ dick, gives it a couple of agonisingly slow strokes before closing his lips around the tip of it. He just teases Louis for a couple of minutes, running his tongue under the head and poking at his slit with it every so often. Louis thrusts his hips forward, knowing Harry can take it. He doesn’t have much of a gag reflex at this point. Harry moans, his mouth going slack around Louis’ length. Louis takes it as permission to take control, tangling a hand in Harry’s hair and snapping his hips forward again. That’s a marvelous sight, Harry’s lips stretched around his dick, fighting to keep his eyes open as he’s attacked by wave after wave of pleasure. It doesn’t take long for Louis to feel the familiar warmth in his stomach. But he doesn’t want to come yet, not like this, not when Harry offered to fuck him. He lets go of Harry’s hair, slips his very hard cock out of his very red lips and covers them with his own. He can taste the bitter flavour of his pre-come on Harry’s tongue, which makes him smirk into their kiss.    

“You said something about fucking me?” Louis murmurs against Harry’s lips, hissing quietly when Harry confirms he’s still on board by pressing the tip of his thumb against Louis’ hole. “Lube. Get the lube.”

Harry nods eagerly and crawls over to the nightstand to grab the bottle of lube. Louis clambers up the mattress to lie on his back, lazily tugging at his shaft while waiting for Harry to join him. It doesn’t take long until moans start to spill out from Louis’ lips. He may be overdoing it a little, probably sounds like a bad porn star. But it seems to work for Harry so whatever. Harry nudges Louis’ legs open with a hand on his knee, settles in between them and leans down to kiss Louis. He keeps it sweet, just lips moving together, no tongue or teeth action. It’s a big contrast to the way their bodies are moving together, lengths sliding against each other in the filthiest of ways.

Harry pecks Louis’ lips one last time and kisses his way down Louis’ chest, giving extra attention to his nipples. He licks and sucks at the nub, grin widening with each moan spilling out of Louis’ lips. He moves further down eventually, leaving a couple of bruises on Louis’ stomach. He suckles on the tip of Louis’ shaft lightly as he pours a generous amount of lube in his hand, effectively distracting Louis from what’s to come.

“Shit, Haz, don’t… I can’t… Fuck.” Louis breathes out, tugging Harry’s hair to get him off his cock. He’s not eighteen anymore. His refractory time is not as short as it used to be. And he really doesn’t want their fun to be over before it has even started.

Harry gets the hint, lets go of his dick and reattaches their lips instead. Louis kisses him back eagerly, groaning into his mouth when he feels one of his fingers prodding at his hole. He can’t handle being teased right now so he bears down on the digit. It slips past the ring of muscle without much of a struggle, probably a testament to how often they do that. Harry doesn’t waste any time pulling it out and in again. He does it a few more times then adds a second finger, moving them inside of Louis until they brush against his prostate. Louis throws his head back, his next moan very loud in the otherwise quiet room. Harry closes his lips around his Adam’s apple, sucking on the bruise he left there earlier, as he keeps pressing on the bundle of nerves. He pulls away to pour more lube onto his already slick fingers and comes back in with three digits. Louis literally howls in pleasure, the stretch feeling marvelous. He’s seeing stars, feeling himself slip over the edge already.

“Am ready, fuck, Haz, please.” He pants, grinding on Harry’s fingers one last time before he pulls them out. Harry lines up his dick with his entrance, starts to move his hips forward but Louis stops him with a hand on his lower stomach. “Want to ride you, yeah?”

Harry nods his consent, pecks Louis’ nose and flops on his back. Louis just stares at him for a moment, wondering what he did to deserve such an amazing man. Now is not the time to dwell on how lucky he is, though. He has more important things to do. He swings a leg over Harry’s hips and propels his body up to sit on his thighs. He reaches behind him to take Harry’s cock in hand, squeezes it lightly and lines it up with his hole. He sinks down slowly, hands falling on Harry’s chest for support. He twists his nipple, smirks at the grunt it earns him and gasps as Harry thrusts his hips up in retaliation. He leans down for a kiss, needing a few seconds to adjust once he’s bottomed out. Harry indulges him; one hand carding through his hair while the other squeezes his hip. Louis grinds down and circles his hips, causing Harry to moan into his mouth. He does it a few more times, until the burn of the stretch is more pleasurable than painful. He breaks the kiss, licks Harry’s nose and straightens up. Harry moves his hand from the back of his head to his jaw, tracing his bitten lips with his thumb. Louis catches it between his teeth as he lifts his hips until only the head of Harry’s dick remains nestle inside of him. He wriggles his arse playfully, careful to not dislodge Harry’s cock, and gets a light slap on the hip in return. Harry’s low chuckles turn into a loud moan when Louis slams his hips down. He doesn’t waste any time to rise up again, sink down again. He quickly finds a rhythm, hands pushing against Harry’s chest with every rise of his hips and moans spilling out of his mouth with every dip down on Harry’s dick. His thighs start to ache eventually, slowing down his movements. And he’s so close already but just not there yet. He hasn’t even found his prostate yet. He really needs to work out more during their break.

Harry wraps an arm around Louis’ waist, uses the other to prop his upper body up. He thrusts his hips up when Louis slams down, meeting him halfway. The change of angle allows him to go deeper, to find Louis’ bundle of nerves. There are butterflies erupting in Louis’ stomach, burning butterflies that send warmth through his entire body. He tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair, pulls at the strands and crashes their lips together. They’ve lost their rhythm. Harry’s barely pulling out now, is just nailing Louis’ prostate over and over again. They’re panting into each other mouths more than they’re kissing at this point.

“Not gonna last, Lou.” Harry warns, pulling Louis closer to trap his cock between their stomachs. Louis hadn’t realised how neglected it felt until it got some action too. Bless Harry’s thoughtful soul. He can’t decide if he’d rather grind down on Harry’s shaft or rub one of against his abs. It all feels so good right now. “Fuck, I love you. Shit.”

The words finish pushing Louis over the edge, come painting both their bellies in seconds. He pulls Harry’s hair again, catches his eyes. They’re so much darker than usual, hooded with lust and pleasure. He brushes his lips with a tender kiss, in total contrast to the filthy movement of Harry’s hips.  

“I love you too. So much.” He murmurs against Harry’s lips, grinds down hard in spite of how sensitive he feels now that he rode the last wave of pleasure. Harry groans, sinks his teeth in Louis’ lower lip as he spills inside of him. Louis kisses him through his orgasm, tasting his own blood on his boyfriend’s tongue. It should probably gross him out more than that. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

“The best, yeah.”

 

><><><><><><><><>< 

 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Harold.” Louis commands, grazing Harry’s jaw with his teeth and prodding at his stomach with a finger. Harry groans in answer, doesn’t even flutter his eyelids. He’s such a guy, honestly. He’s so useless after a good fuck. Louis shouldn’t have left him alone to take a quick shower. He should have dragged him to the bathroom with him. Or take him to the music room straight away, come leaking out of his arse and everything. Harry would have yelled at him if he’d stained the piano’s bench, though. “Come on, babe. I have a surprise for you.”

Harry’s eyes snap open, finding Louis’ immediately. Harry has the most beautiful eyes Louis has ever seen. They are still a darker green than usual right now, also sparkling with excitement at the prospect of a surprise.

“Is it a dick-shaped box of chocolate?” He asks, lazy grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Louis snorts and bites Harry’s shoulder. He bought Harry a dick-shaped box of chocolates on their first Valentine’s Day together. He had never had a boyfriend before. He didn’t know how Valentine’s Day was supposed to go with a guy. So he’d wondered what he’d have gotten Hannah if they still were together and decided to get something similar for Harry. A relationship is a relationship. Love is love. Valentine's Day is Valentine's Day. Anyway, he took the dick-shaped box to be funny, knew Harry would love it. He was still an immature teenager, after all. Harry had been so delighted that Louis had decided to make it a tradition. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get out of bed to find out.”

Harry jumps out of bed, soft cock flailing against his thigh. It’s a little distracting. Louis can’t afford being distracted; he hasn’t mastered the song yet. He hasn’t even rehearsed it once. He’s fucked. And he needs Harry to cover up for once.

“Put your pants on, please.” He demands, looking straight into Harry’s eyes so he can tell he’s being serious. Harry raises a single eyebrow in question. “Your dick is distracting.”

“Your face is distracting.” Harry mutters, pulling on a pair of pants he grabbed on the floor anyway. Louis brings both hands to Harry’s face and plants a loud kiss on his pouting lips. Harry’s now grinning wide enough for the dimple to appear. “So where’s my surprise?”

Louis doesn’t answer, doesn’t want to give away the surprise by informing him of their destination. He’s going to figure it out in thirty seconds anyway, as soon as they get to the music room. So he laces their fingers and pulls him along down the corridor. He makes him sit on the piano’s bench while he searches his drawer for his notebook.

“So I know I wrote you enough songs to fill a library already but I still haven’t found a better way to express how much I love you so bear with me.” Louis says as he sits next to his boyfriend, putting the notebook on his laps. “Also, just as an FYI, I only worked on that song for about an hour so it’s still a bit… Just don’t get your expectation too high, yeah?”

Harry smiles softly, puts a hand on Louis’ thigh and squeezes gently. Louis goes for a kiss, his lips fitting with Harry’s effortlessly. He has nothing to be afraid of. He and Harry have gone through a lot worse than a shitty song written as a last minute Valentine’s Day’s present.

“It’ll be perfect to me, Lou, no matter what.” Harry promises, brushing his lips against his forehead and guiding his hands to the keyboard. “I love you, now play me my new song.”

Louis chuckles at the eagerness in Harry’s voice and turns to face the piano. He closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath and hits the first key, his voice joining the soft melody.

_I’ve never been one for chase_   
_But for you I caved_   
_Memories that paint you face_   
_In shades of red and laughter_

He grimaces as his fingers slip over the wrong keys, his voice shaking on a couple of lines. He should have waited a few more days to introduce the song to Harry. He’s ruining it now.  

_I’ve been called a dreamer,_   
_Desperate for sleep._   
_But you have been that dream,_   
_The kind I shut my eyes to keep_   
_I’m in love again,_   
_Oh my heart is racing._   
_My voice is shaking at the thought of you_

He opens his eyes to find Harry’s for the next part, a small smile tugging at his lips. Harry is smiling at him too, has probably been smiling the whole time. He doesn’t seem too disappointed in the half-finished lyrics and stumbling music. Louis breathes a metaphorical sigh of relief.

_You’ve always been the one_   
_But I’ve never had the nerve to say it_   
_You’re all I dream_   
_The moment I’m feeling courageous_   
_You always leave me tongue-tied_

Louis hits a few more keys to fade the song out. He barely has time to turn his attention back to Harry that he’s being manhandled into a kiss, absolutely no finesse in it.

“ _You_  are  _my_  dream, all I’ve ever wanted and more.” Harry murmurs, eyes locked with Louis’ and lips curled into a smile. “You’ve always been the one.”

“How dare you quote my own song at me? You’re supposed to be a genius with words, Mister Styles.”

Harry laughs, brushes his lips against Louis’ once more before trailing them up his cheek to his ear. The warm puffs of air send shivers down Louis’ spine. He’d probably be up for another round if he weren’t so tired from their long day of sex and fake dates.

“I love you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis smiles, brings his own mouth to Harry’s ear and whisper back.

“I love you, Harry Styles.” 


End file.
